The Death of One
by ThisisPorky
Summary: Well, you know what they all say; "Another one bites the dust".


_**hHH sorry about this : D for both the kill and writing this crap hbasvXFS**_

* * *

There he lay, wheezing with barely any breath left in his tiny and bleeding body. His shaking hands were covering the wound which had been sustained by the huge walking tree, which was slowly getting closer to where he lay. With its lifeless eyes, it looked down at him, sharp mouth open and deep breaths leaving it. As it raised its left arm slowly to strike the last blow to the man, rain spilled over the land. And as if the gods of the sky had heard his pray's, a piece of bright lighting struck the tree with such a force it caused the Evergreen Tree Guard to stumble backwards in a bright flash of fire.

The whole place was getting darker thanks to the rain clouds; apart from the small area around the tree and human thanks to the fire.

Breathing a shaky sigh, Wilson hissed as he moved to his hands and knees, blood freely dripping from the slash wound, only being washed away by the strong and heavy rain-drops flowing on the ground. Three deep scratches, going straight across his stomach and sides, caused by the moving tree and its strong bark-claws. The pain was unbelievable, and his head was swimming with agony.

He mustered enough strength to stand on to his shaking legs, and began to run forward. His breaths still left him harshly; he was forcing back his own blood down his gullet, and he was close to collapsing again. He felt sick, weak, close to death. He'd been here so long that he'd forgotten what proper life was, and had been forced to adapt to this unforgiving lifestyle.

He was sure to welcome Death when it came.

He fell to his knees again, an unhealthy amount of blood spilling on to the grassy floor, staining the green grass with red that soon made a stream with the water. As he coughed up the last of the blood, he heard the foot-steps grow heavier and closer to where he was behind him. Blood was still dripping from the wounds, and he felt queasy.

He was suddenly crashing down to the ground thanks to a clawed hand, the sickening sound of flesh being torn heard rumbling through the place. Wilson's own strong gasp could be heard over the crashes of the thunder and heavy breaths of the tree. His panting fell out harder than before, and pain now pumped through his battered and wounded body like somebody had just poured something of a hot substance on to his front and back. The pain was burning; it was hurting like nothing he had ever experienced before. He thought the bite of Hounds were bad, he thought the stings of the Killer Bee's hurt like hell. This was worse than all of those put together.

With his front end slashed and bleeding, and the same story for the back of him, he couldn't even move. All he could do was stay still, his breathing weak and body like a lump of rock. He couldn't even get up and run, even if he tried. Even if he felt his strength rise somehow. Tiredness. That's all he felt. Weak and tired.

A sudden crash and small earthquake rumbled behind him, but he didn't even flinch. He just remind still, almost dead from all the damage caused. Then, he felt hands. No, arms. They looped around his belching stomach and heaved him to his feet. Pained yelp's and screams escaped his lips, the tiredness fading, being replaced with the burning again. He kicked and screamed, only leading him deeper into the forest of pain and agony.

'Wilson! Wilson, calm down!' Said a voice behind him, but his mind was too fuzy and buzzing with hurt to listen to it. 'Wilson, please!' He felt himself being rested on to his butt, but he fell backwards, only causing the burning to intensity. Panting was the only thing he could do; he couldn't even lift his arms to cover up the still bleeding wounds. Rain hit him in the face; a welcoming thing, really. His face was hot, and he wanted to cool down.

Everything was flashing by him so quickly, and as blood flowed from his open body, he could feel himself getting fainter. But then, a sudden face blocked out whatever light was left, and the rain stopped hitting him. He saw red and white strips, which were blurry. He saw a shine of brown eyes looking down at him, both of which were tear-filled. He felt those strong and meaty arms wrap around him again, being pulled into someone's lap - being cradled by someone.

'Wilson! S-stay with me!' The voice was deep and broad, yet shaking with emotions.

'W-Wolfgang...?'

'I-I know you are bleeding, but, y-you need to stay...! Stay here! D-do not...do not...!'

'Shh...H-hey...it's my time...'

'What...?! No! Is not time, yet! Still have many strong d-days to go! Is not time to go now! Not for long time!'

With the last of his strength plucked from the stormy sky, Wilson lifted his shaking arm, his hand weakly cupping the side of the mans face. His lips turned into a small smile, and his eye-lids drooped to half-closed.

'W-we all have that time, W...Wolf...' He felt two meaty palms wrap around his own and gently squeeze it, to which his smile grew more. 'It just depends on when the time comes...'

'Maybe so, b-but is too early, now...do not want small man to go... I...I can fix up booboo's! Yes! With Honey Poultice and Spider Glands! Is easy! L-like to punch Spider! Y-you will get better, will just take time!'

'I-I'm hurt too much, Wolfgang...I've lost to...much blood... M-my life now would be agony...an-and I'd be complaining about it every day...'

'W-Wolfgang would not mind complaining...w-would comfort until pain is gone!'

They looked deep into each others eyes, one crying while the others was calm. The dying man gently chuckled, though it caused blood to spill. It only made the Strongman wince.

'I'm cold...yet I feel peace, not pain...'

'Wilson...!'

'You can manage...on your own...I showed you how to make Science stuff...a-and not to punch it...'

'Please...!'

'I'm...sorry...'

'...'

'...'

The last breath was heard before his head fell back, motionless and still. His mouth and eyes remained open, and his body fell lump and still. Blood was running from the corner of his mouth, and more was coming from his open and cut body, dripping to the forest floor and marking it with his death.

'Wilson...?'

He lay still, unresponsive.

'Wilson!'

He took the others hand from his face, clinging to it, gently shaking it with both of his own in a bid to get some sort of angry and annoyed response from him. For him to suddenly pop back to life and say how he fell for him being dead, and for them to hug tightly and go back to camp, saying how stupid tree's were.

But he never did.

And he wasn't going to.

'Please, no!'

His friend. His best and only friend in this unforgiving world was dead. Thanks to some stupid, ugly and annoying tree. Tears streamed down his face, the still leaking blood being washed away with the rain-water, washing away the mess that was left in the green forest grass, washing away any evidence that there had been a death here.

The Strongman didn't know how long he had stayed there, simply cradling the dead man with one arm in his lap while his other hand was clutching Wilson's own, not caring about his legs and onesie getting covered in the others blood. Wolfgang didn't know how long he had stared into his dead eyes, wishing for them to look up at him, and for a small smile to form on his face as he whispered "hello" to him. He didn't know how long he was wishing and preying for him to spring back to life.

In the end, the man put the others hand down. Two fingers closed his eyes and mouth before rolling him off his lap and to the ruined floor. As the rain came to a slow stop, the sun glistened over the Evergreen's tree tops, casting its light on the event that had happened; The death of two.

With clenched fists and tear-filled eyes, the Strongman took one last and long look at his friend.

His hands rested on his bloodied chest. Where he had been attacked could clearly be seen since his red vest and white "Science" shirt had been torn to shreds, and three black and bloodied scars had been left in place of the tears. He looked so peaceful. So content.

'Sleep well.' Were Wolf's last words before he came to a slow walk. As much as it pained him to just leave his body there, he didn't know how to make a shovel, nor what to do with it other than to leave it there. He sure as hell didn't want too; if he could bury him in the ground then he gladly would. But he knew that, even when the ground was wet, it was still hard to dig this area of ground with bare hands if there was no previous hole there, and carrying him to somewhere with softer ground tread was pointless since it was evergreen grass for miles on end. There base had been set up in the rabbit invested lands, not here - they only came here for more logs and food to spare them through the long night.

He just wished he had been the one chopping the tree's down, not the Gentlemen Scientist.

And so, he continued on his days in that place like he always had done before he met Wilson. But he had grown more miserable and less cheery than before, and his heart had grown cold, like stone. There was a time where he cared about the rabbits and birds enough to not catch and murder them, but instead keep and feed them for a little while and call them a pet name, like "Frank" or "Lacy", despite Wilson's nagging about the value of food they'd both have.

Now he murdered them for their morsel's without a second thought.

* * *

Night soon came. The bleeding body was still there, as still as a boulder and still marking the ground with death. But then, in the pitch-black came a figure. He had his hands behind his back, smoking on his cigar role, and two eyes could be seen in the dark. Although it was highly unlikely for anyone sane enough to be traveling in the dark without a light to see this.

He looked down at the body with his head tilted. Slowly, two Shadow Hands came from up the ground, swirling around the body before latching its clawed hands around the lump. They lifted him up into the air, blood still dripping down from it before being dragged down under the ground. The figure did nothing more than stand and watch, his hands remaining behind his back as he event un-folded before him. He blew smoke from his nose like an angry dragon.

A few digging sounds could be heard before a small lump of earth appeared where the body had been dragged down, resembling as a grave. A lump of rock, forming a tombstone, came just before the lump of earth, to which the observer moved forward ever-so-slowly. As he leaned down before the grey piece of stone, cracking noises from old bones were heard, showing his old age. One of his hands swooped from behind his back, and he soon began getting to work at scratching the stone with his sharpened finger, bits of dust falling.

He did this until the morning sun rose to revile his identity. And just as it did cast its light, he disappeared through a black and purple portal a few feet away from the newly formed grave without so much as a word.

* * *

"_Here lies: Wilson P. Higgsbury_

_Days = 84 + half_

_Died = Evergreen Tree Guard, blood loss_"


End file.
